


Fortress of Lassitude

by InsaneTrollLogic



Category: Psych
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-21
Updated: 2014-03-21
Packaged: 2018-01-16 11:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1345102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneTrollLogic/pseuds/InsaneTrollLogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Shawn and Lassiter face the end of the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fortress of Lassitude

“Okay,” Shawn says slowly. “I so didn’t see that one coming.”

Lassiter cradles his sawed-off shotgun to his chest almost subconsciously. “Spencer, I’ve always seen a zombie apocalypse as a not only viable but  _likely_ means for the end of the world.”

Shawn snorts. “You believe in zombies.”

“In case you haven’t notices, this isn’t about belief anymore. This is about the zombies currently residing in the Santa Barbara Police Department.”

“Oh, you totally dug Shawn of the Dead didn’t you? And 28 Days Later. And you totally had a massive man-crush on Bruce Campbell back in the day. You can admit it, Lassie. You’re among friends.”

“Evil Dead wasn’t a zombie movie.”

“I KNEW IT!”

“Spencer, I suggest you stop being a child and get focused. The most prudent course of action is to retreat to my house and attempt to regroup for an attack.”

“Your house? I’m invited to the fortress of Lassitude?”

“I have sufficient firearms and ammunition to mount a successful attack, not to mention the means to defend our position.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed in your house anymore.”

Shawn expects a tirade about breaking and entering and personal space but Lassiter surprises him and leans forward so close that he can feel the heat from his breath on his face. “Shawn, if you think I’m losing one more person I actually care about to this thing, you don’t know me at all.”

There is a moment here, cloying and oppressive and it scares him almost as much as the zombie hordes outside. “Aw, Lassie,” he chokes out finally. “I love you too.”

Lassiter shoves the shotgun into his hands and pulls his own handheld out of its holster. “You know how to use one of these?”

Shawn cocks the gun and gives him a look. 

“You know how to kill them?” Lassiter asks. 

“Removing the head or destroy the brain,” Shawn recites. “I’ve only seen Night of the Living Dead like twenty-three times.”

“Let’s do this,” Lassiter says. “No getting yourself killed, Spencer, that’s an order.”

“Right back at you Lassie-face.” 


End file.
